Teaching Noah | √

034

THIS HOUSE WAS blowing my mind.

The living room was the most spacious and stylish living room I'd ever seen. It was painted all white with quite a wide staircase leading to God knew how many more places in the house. Stylish items, artistic works, framed paintings all blended out together really set the tone. The ceiling in the kitchen was grand. With a kitchen that was fit for a top chef, it had chandeliers that only made the kitchen appear bigger. The color scheme of the kitchen was stunning and there was a chic combination of wood and marble.

There seemed to be too many hangout spots in the house, one including an outside room, which I knew were a thing, but I was only just seeing for the first time. Sofas, chairs, fresh pillows and some fancy looking lanterns were set up. That had to be what people in the movies meant when they stormed out saying "I need some air". I could only imagine what stargazing here would be like.

"Why doesn't your car match your house, Noah?" I looked at him.

"What?" His mouth was full and his lips were glossy from the glazed donut he was eating.

The plan was to get donuts after, but Noah decided it was better to just grab it in case we weren't going to leave the house on time. There was something about hanging out, and being around Noah. He was considerate, and he had a sense of calm and control. He was reasonable, like he had a solution for every problem, and even if he didn't have a solution, he could provide an alternative. It was a thought that hit as we rode to his house.

"Your house. It's so beautiful."

"My dad designed it," he had a small smile on his face. "And to be fair, it's his house. . . and my mom's, I guess. I think they realized their marriage was messy enough and didn't want their house to be too," he looked around. "I have to admit, it's a pretty neat house."

"Just neat? It's a mansion. This is an amazing home," I was surprised.

"What does home mean to you?" He took a bite of his donut.

"A building that has a roof over it."

"But if it's uncomfortable, it's not a home. A home should be where you always want to be. If you're away from it, you miss it. A home lets you be yourself. Raw form and all that. If it's not that, it shouldn't be considered a home."

I let Noah's words sink in, and they did. Slowly. It made sense, and I looked up at him. He tapped the side of his head and mouthed with a smile on his face, "Wisdom."

I wasn't surprised when I saw Noah's room. It was warm and inviting, plus, it smelt a lot like him. The walls were painted white as well, and there was a queen-size bed covered with dark grey blankets and loads of pillows. Above it were four framed photos with simple black and white pictures of things I couldn't make out yet. I knew he enjoyed reading, but I didn't think I would be seeing a shelf filled with books. The books were arranged neatly and in order, and right beside the shelf was a vinyl record player.

"You collect vinyl records?" I turned to Noah who was now seated in a pouf that sat by his bed, "Uh, if you mean buying them on Amazon, then yeah."

I chuckled, "Noah, this is awesome. What records do you have?"

"I don't have many," he walked to the shelf where some records sat, and he shuffled through them, "But I've got Daft Punk's Random Access Memories, Destiny's Child's Survivor and The Writing's on The Wall. . . Taylor Swift's 1989 and Harry Styles' Fine Line. I got that earlier this year."

"You listen to Destiny's Child?"

"Hey, Say My Name will always be a classic."

"No need to be defensive, those two albums have the most amazing songs on them, but I have to admit, I didn't think you were a Swiftie."